


Episode (?): The Visitor

by thegroovygatsby



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Gen, i got a prompt and i accidentally a whole episode, i'm not even sure what to put here tbh, it's basically an episode of welcome to night vale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 06:30:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegroovygatsby/pseuds/thegroovygatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A strange visitor arrives in Night Vale. Who could he be? What could he want? Plus a citywide alert about wasps, some information about the annual town meeting, and an update on those no-good jerks who cheated at the PTA bingo night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Episode (?): The Visitor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rehearsal_Dweller](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehearsal_Dweller/gifts).



> prompt: an outsider - someone from the government, someone like the winchesters, a scientist who hasn't been corrupted yet - follows a trail of weird into night vale, tries to investigate, and probably either ends up dead or crazy. your choice.
> 
> okay so it's a little different. but i kinda ran with it.

Follow your dreams, and you’ll live a long, full life. Follow your nightmares, and you’ll find yourself standing alone, naked, and confused on the edge of a small and friendly desert town.

Welcome to Night Vale.

Hello, listeners. You probably have already noticed, but just in case you haven’t, it is my great pleasure to inform you of a new visitor to our humble town! We don’t yet know his name, or where he’s from, but we _do_ know that he is of average height; his suit is black and free of wrinkles; and every so often, he mutters a few words into his cellular earpiece, which he has not once removed from his ear. A few helpful listeners have called in, and thanks to them, I can tell you that the strange visitor has so far spoken the following phrases into his earpiece: “Factory space”, “Phase Two”, “Dog Park”, and “DEAR LORD! WHAT IS THAT?” The latter, of course, was in response to the group of extraordinarily large wasps hovering above the sidewalk just to the left of Big Rico’s Pizza…but I do wonder what the other phrases meant. Who is he speaking to? Why is he speaking about the Dog Park, which, of course, does not exist and I know nothing about? Just who is this guy? There are so many questions without answers, listeners. Hopefully we’ll be able to answer them as more information comes in.

Alert: there is a group of extraordinarily large wasps hovering above the sidewalk just to the left of Big Rico’s pizza. So far, no one has been physically harmed by the wasps, but then again, they are extraordinarily large and are believed incapable of intelligent thought, as they seem to speak only about the more regrettable fashion styles of the eighties. The sheriff’s secret police are advising all citizens against approaching the wasps, studying the wasps, or engaging the wasps in conversation. Each wasp is reported as being “the size of two large men”, or, alternately, “the size of one small bear”. Listeners, for your safety and the safety of others, I urge you to obey the rules laid down by the Secret Police until they can call in a very large exterminator.

The City Council has asked me to remind everyone that the annual Town Meeting and Sacrificial Ritual will be held exactly two weeks from Thursday. The location is as follows: _Look to the east. Look to the west. Study the sky above your head. Study the Earth beneath your feet. Dig until you hit bedrock. You are home._ The City Council would also like to remind all Night Vale citizens that your attendance is mandatory. Of course, I can’t imagine why anyone would choose not to attend. The Town Meeting is a wonderful once-a-year opportunity for Night Vale citizens to come together, openly discuss any problems affecting the town, and, of course, make our yearly human sacrifice to the Ancient God of the Void. Remember, anyone who brings up anything negative during the open mic session is an automatic sacrifice! The sacrificial altar is also a great place for your children to play while you mingle with your friends and neighbors. How exciting! See you there, listeners… _or else._ No, but seriously! See you there.

Update on the strange visitor: I have it written here that he has, in fact, inquired into purchasing a large amount of land here in Night Vale! Witnesses report seeing the man walk into an office with a realtor, only to emerge twenty minutes later with wild eyes, a bloody nose, and multiple tears and rips in his previously immaculate suit. You would think, listeners, that he would take better care of what seems like very expensive clothing. Anyway, someone who was until very recently trapped in the realtor’s office but has since escaped, and whose identity is currently being guarded by the sheriff’s secret police and their witness protection program, has come forward and shared this information under the premise that they would remain anonymous: our strange visitor seems to have been interested in purchasing the vacant lot out back of the Ralph’s! That is a very sizable piece of property, listeners. I wonder what he might be buying it for…and we still don’t even know his name! How mysterious. I sent one of the interns out to see if they could find anything out about our strange visitor. Hopefully Intern Daniel will return soon with some new information that will shed a little light on who, exactly, this man is, and what he wants with land in Night Vale.

And now, a word from our sponsor:

You find yourself on a strange, dark road. Where are you? Where are your feet? What are they doing? Are they walking? They should be. You walk for hours. All around you is darkness, black and impenetrable. Above you, the sky is empty. Below you, the ground is wet and slippery. The darkness slithers down your spine and curls around your feet. Somewhere, there are eyes, watching. The eyes may or may not be attached to a face. The face may or may not be attached to a body. You continue to walk. You enter a building. There is something in the building with you. There is heavy breathing behind you. The sound draws closer…closer… _closer._ You feel warm air on the back of your neck. The darkness wraps around your ankles and holds you in place. You cannot move. You open your mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. The darkness flows into your lungs. You accept your fate. You are one of us now. _You are one of us._ Burger King: Have it your way!

Strange auras have recently appeared around the houses of certain Night Vale citizens who may or may not have cheated during the PTA-funded Town Bingo Night, which was held last week in the Night Vale High School’s gymnasium. Anna Martinez, who coordinated the event, said that she knows exactly who it was, but would prefer not to make a big fuss out of the whole thing. “I have no intentions of publically going after anyone,” she said. “All I’m going to say is that I have absolutely no control over how these strange auras that have recently appeared will affect the guilty parties’ families in the event that they refuse to pay back their ill-gotten winnings to the PTA. _Absolutely_ no control.” I, personally, am outraged that any Night Vale citizens would stoop so low as to cheat at a PTA-sanctioned event! How could you? That money is for the _children,_ not to mention the PTA’s private vacation fund, you lousy cheaters. To be honest, I’m disappointed, and hopefully these cheaters will decide to do the right thing and come forward with the money.

 

And now, traffic.

The trees outside are green and full. They are old, strong trees. Their trunks are wide and their bark is thick. They stand tall, their roots tangled in the Earth to hold them upright. Every so often a breeze blows through their branches and their leaves tremble. The sun kisses them gently, almost like a mother. Now it is summer. Soon the skies will darken and the air will become thinner. Eventually, there will be snow. The leaves will turn brown and crisp, fluttering from brittle extremities to crumble on the ground. The branches will become skeletal. The snow will come. One day the trees will wither and die, devoured from the inside out by beetles and sickness. The trees will fall and the snow will cover their hollowed carcasses.

This has been traffic.

I have just received some new and interesting information about our mysterious visitor! Old Woman Josie, out by the car lot, called in to report that the angels saw the strange man running away from the Dog Park as fast as he could. Old Woman Josie tells me that the angels had seen him lurking outside the gates to the Dog Park about ten or fifteen minutes ago, but then all of a sudden he straightened up, the blood drained from his face, and he ran down the street and onto the steps of the City Council building. Once there, he fell to his knees and began muttering to himself. How interesting! I wonder what he could be saying. Old Woman Josie mentioned that the angels had seen Intern Daniel, who so far has yet to report back, still following our strange visitor; in fact, they saw our dedicated intern sprinting down the street right behind him. Perhaps Daniel can shed some more light on the situation when he returns to the station. Thanks so much for the tip! I would like to remind all listeners that, as no one is supposed to know anything about either the existence of the Dog Park or the hierarchy of angels, you definitely didn’t hear this update. You really have no idea what I’ve been talking about for the last few minutes, and I haven’t the slightest idea what I’ve been saying. In fact, this seems like a good time for me to stop talking. Let’s go to the weather!

Welcome back, listeners. I have some sad news. Both the strange visitor and Intern Daniel are, apparently, dead. I received what was presumably Daniel’s final text message only moments ago. It read, “SOON THEY WILL COME. SOON.” As soon as I read the message, my phone died, which was odd, considering it had a full battery, and was plugged into the charger at the time. Either way, the station wishes to offer its condolences to Daniel’s family. He died in the line of duty, and his death was an honorable one. Less honorable, however, was that of the strange visitor. The sheriff’s secret police found some notes that Daniel had taken earlier today and then left lying on the steps of the City Council building where both he and the mysterious man lived out their final moments.

Apparently, if you can believe this, our well-dressed visitor was actually a high-level StrexCorp executive from, get this, Desert Bluffs! With a little digging—or rather, picking up the man’s earpiece and loudly speaking into the microphone, “HELLO? WHO IS THIS? THIS IS THE SECRET POLICE”—the sheriff’s secret police discovered that he was trying to buy up Night Vale property in order to start a new branch of StrexCorp in our little town. It just goes to show that Desert Bluffs is so terrible even the company that runs it is trying to move into Night Vale. Stay out of our town, Desert Bluffs! No one even wants you here. _God._ Desert Bluffs is _so annoying._

But it looks like we’ve avoided this blatant and deplorable attack on our town. We will live to fight another day. Stay tuned for a series of whistling noises comprehensible to everyone in the universe except for you. That’s right, you. No, _you._

Good night, Night Vale. Good night.


End file.
